


Take Me Down Easy

by Mechanicalism



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: But only in Chapter 2, Deacon deserves to be happy, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, No Plot/Plotless, Romance, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29261637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mechanicalism/pseuds/Mechanicalism
Summary: The Institute may be gone, but that doesn't stop Deacon from getting himself injured in the dumbest way possible and landing himself on bed rest. Alone with his thoughts, he comes to terms with certain feelings he'd spent almost a year trying to ignore.Sure enough, the subject of those thoughts wanders right in to check on him. Maybe for once, he's ready to throw caution to the wind.
Relationships: Deacon/Female Sole Survivor, Deacon/Sole Survivor (Fallout)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	1. Heavenly

**Author's Note:**

> I got in a mood to write a little sappy fluff, and this is what came of it. I've never really written fluff like this before, so fingers crossed! Smut is ONLY in the 2nd chapter once it's up, the first chapter is just some sweet, sweet goodness in case you'd like to avoid it.
> 
> Fic title music is Take Me Down Easy by by James Henry Jr. which just gave me HUGE Deacon romance vibes when I first heard it.  
> Chapter music is Heavenly by Cigarettes After Sex

Deacon sat in his bed – an actual god damned bed, with a frame and sheets and everything – watching the scant few autumn leaves drift by through the window of his room. His room. His room in a little house in Sanctuary, a place he’d only seen a handful of times before, at least as it was now. No longer was it the empty, hollow, husk of times past. He could hear the turrets whirring along the walled perimeter, people hammering, people laughing. There were more people here now than there had been pre-war, and it was one person’s doing. Whisper.

A book laid on his lap, he couldn’t even remember what is was, cracked open to some unknown page, forgotten. There was a constant throbbing ache from his leg, a reminder of why he was here in the first place. They had been doing repairs at Mercer safehouse, the Red Rocket down the road. Whisper insisted on it’s location, telling Dez that it’s proximity to the Minutemen’s largest base of operations outside of the Castle would offer more protection than any of the other options on the table. Even now with the Institute out of the picture, synths had to be moved, and Mercer was busy as ever.

Of course when setting up new defenses, it wasn’t raiders or muties that came knocking, but one of the new turrets went haywire and tried to turn his calf into swiss cheese. Because of course he forgot to enable the combat inhibitor before tinkering with it. And naturally, he was standing right in front of it. Like a dumbass. If it weren’t for the absolute agony, he would have laughed at his sheer stupidity. Curie, now in her new synth body, was able to patch him up well enough thankfully, but insisted on bed rest for at least two weeks.

It had been two days, and he was already bored out of his mind.

He tried to go back to his book, but the Med-X they had him on made his vision blurry, and his head just foggy enough he couldn’t read or process the words on the pages. Instead he took in his surroundings. His bed butted up to one corner, with a small worn dresser towards the foot, a few baubles he’d picked up in his travels on top of it. The nightstand next to him held his sunglasses just beside the proper, functioning, lamp. He even had a desk, with s few rows of shelves above it. Each one of those shelves were stacked with books, books he never gathered. Whisper had told him when they moved him in here that she’d been collecting them, saving them, for him. When she told him that, he was thankful for his sunglasses, because he was pretty sure his eyes went glassy and soft almost immediately. It was probably one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for him.

In the absence of any other stimulation, his mind began to drift back on its own accord. His mouth tugged itself into a sad smile. Barbara used to tease him over his book collecting, a habit he’d had since childhood. He’d tease her right back over her collection of silly coffee mugs she’d found out in the wastes, or her obsessive love of Fancy Lads. Sometimes he’ll come across a mug she might have liked. Sometimes he almost grabs it, but he always seems to stop himself.

It’s been almost two decades, but still he sometimes wakes up in the morning expecting her to be lying next to him. Still, he’s always greeted with a cold side of the bed. He sighed. The memories weren’t as raw as they used to be, but they still made his chest tighten and his throat sting, even the ones that sometimes brought a small smile to his face.

There was a knock at the door, and he quickly shoved his sunglasses back on, hiding his eyes, and in turn his thoughts. He plastered on a fake smile when Whisper crossed the threshold, despite knowing she’d see right through it. She was just like that, always able to cut through his bullshit.

“How’re you feeling, big guy?” She asked softly, closing the door behind her with a tiny _click_.

“Oh just peachy, _General_.” He knew she hated the title, and he couldn’t help himself.

Whisper rolled her eyes at him fondly. “So in other words you’re climbing up the walls, huh?”

He huffs a small laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever sat still this long since…” He stops himself, smile dropping from his face. Of course, Whisper knew all about Barbara, his past before the Railroad. It doesn’t mean it’s any easier to talk about, and she knows. Her own loss was much more recent, at least to her perception of time. She’d only been out of that ice box for a year now. Though his eyes were still hidden most of the time, he doesn’t bother hiding himself as much around her anymore. She knows his big secret, his shame. There wasn’t much else left to hide, really. Well, aside from one thing. He sat his sunglasses back on the nightstand.

Whisper said nothing, just sat at the foot of the bed, hand resting on his good knee. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, despite Deacon’s usual need to fill it with useless chatter. When they were alone, it felt safe to be quiet. She felt safe. He was past the point of it scaring him anymore, knowing there was no use fighting it, he began to accept it. Just by existing, she slowly unraveled him, and began restitching the torn little bits of himself into something that resembled a person again, at least when they were alone, anyway.

“I still miss her.”

“I know.” Whisper said simply, thumb brushing small circles on his knee.

“Do you think…” Deacon hesitated. He tried to be open with Whisper nowadays, really tried, but this felt different. This felt like new territory. “Do you think she’d have wanted me to move on?” God, he couldn’t believe he was doing this.

Whisper’s hand paused, and she looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “I think she’d want you to be happy, Dee. She wouldn’t want you to feel like you had to be alone.” She didn’t know Barbara, but what she said was ringing true to Deacon. As much as he wanted to, would Barbara really want to see him so isolated, even after all this time? Could he really do this?

Deacon nodded and moved to sit up properly, plucking the book off his lap and setting it alongside his sunglasses. Now the nerves were coming back. Did he reveal his last big secret? Did he want to risk what he already had, for something he wanted, but thought he couldn’t have? Tentatively, he reached his hand down and enveloped hers, thumb swiping across her knuckles. She had moved closer, resting near his hip now, and squeezed his hand gently. Screw it, here goes nothing.

“Do you really think so?” He says, a near whisper.

“I really do.” A gentle smile was gracing her face and her eyes were soft, but seemed to look straight through his eyes and right into his soul. There wasn’t any hiding anymore, not with her.

His head was inching forward before he even realized it. He paused, afraid to close the distance, but Whisper met him there. She pressed her lips to his sweetly, before pulling back slightly, her shining eyes back on his. He moved to kiss her again, the hand not holding hers going to rest on her jawline, fingertips brushing soft locks of hair that curled around her ear. His tongue darted out to brush against her lip, and she opened to deepen the kiss, still slow and gentle.

Deacon felt her hand come up to caress his cheek, feeling her wipe away a tear he hadn’t realized he’d shed. Her tongue caressed his, and he choked out something between quiet groan and a sob he must have been holding onto for some two decades. He freed the hand that was holding hers to wrap around her waist to pull her up towards him. Whisper moved to press herself against his side, not once breaking the kiss.

Deacon was the one to end it eventually, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face into where her neck and shoulder met, just holding her for a moment. He needed to breathe, just have her close for a moment. He did it, he actually did it, and…

Everything felt right.

There wasn’t any panic, no fear. For once he felt what he assumed was content; it had been so long he wasn’t even sure that’s what it was. He had Whisper in his arms, yet the usual instinct screaming at him to run was quiet. _I can’t believe it._ _Is this just a dream?_

“Nope, all real.” Whisper said, amusement in her voice. Apparently he’d mumbled that last part out loud. Oops. She ran her nails across the back of his neck and up his scalp, soothingly. She could just tell Deacon was overwhelmed with emotions he never thought he’d feel again. Whisper was just good like that. She was just good.

Deacon looked up, stroking his thumb across her cheek and meeting her gaze once more, just to make sure she really was there. Her smile never left her face, and Deacon actually found himself mirroring it. He couldn’t resist chasing that smile with another kiss, small and chaste this time. There was no way he was hiding his dazed expression when he pulled back once more. She was real, this was real, and though there would always be pain in his heart, she was there to soothe it as best she could.

Whisper made herself comfortable with ease, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his chest with a sigh. He still clung to her tightly, like she’d drift away if he loosened his grip. He shifted slightly to press his lips to the top of her head.

“I never thought I’d get to have this.” He admitted quietly.

Whisper squeezed him gently. “Like I said, you deserve to be happy, Dee.”

They laid like, still and simply soaking up each other’s presence until Whisper’s breathing evened out and her grip on him relaxed as she drifted off. Deacon stroked her hair and even asleep she seemed to lean into it. He used the arm she was half resting on to gently pull his book back over and used his free arm to crack it back open to where he left off. His movements caused Whisper to grumble in her sleep and mold herself even tighter against him. He just smiled and pulled her closer and got back to reading. It looked like he might actually get to spend his day reading Proust, rather than just talking about it.

In the end, bed rest didn’t seem so bad after all.


	2. Reading In Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, my first attempt ever at smut! Sweet, fluffy smut, but smut nonetheless!

His two weeks were up as of today, thank god, and Deacon was finally able to start hobbling around Sanctuary. It was a snail’s pace, but up and walking nonetheless. Curie had insisted he take it slow, but keep exercising the leg – apparently having your calf shredded wasn’t the easiest of wounds to heal, what a surprise. Deacon was just glad to be able to get out of that god forsaken bed for a while, no matter how comfortable it was. He wasn’t totally sure, but this had to be the longest he’d ever been out of commission. Damn that turret, he hoped a mutie blew it up.

At least Whisper was at his side every step of the way. She would let him lean on her as they made another loop on Sanctuary’s street, or help ease him down into the patio chair she’d dragged in front of her house when his leg needed a break. He said her house, but in reality, it seemed to be becoming ‘their’ house, given the fact he had a room there and all of his meager possessions seemed to be migrating inside at a steady pace.

That thought alone should have scared the crap out of him, but that wasn’t something he was ready to pick apart quite yet. An existential crisis for another day and all that.

They hadn’t really been trying to keep their relationship a secret, but in reality, there hadn’t been much of an outward change to how they acted together. Either their innate subtlety was at work, and no one noticed, or they’d been the most obvious not-quite-couple the Commonwealth had ever seen, and once again, no one noticed, just for a different reason. They’d shared little more than stolen kisses and quiet evenings together in bed, pressed together and often reading the same book, and that was perfectly fine. Deacon’s current pitiful excuse for a leg couldn’t have handled much more than that, anyway.

Deacon enjoyed the quiet intimacy between them, surprising himself with how well he’d been able to relax into it. Sometimes, Whisper told him stories about the old world, little parts of her life he’d never known, like when she apparently slept through whatever a “final” was and nearly failed a law class, or when she and Nate had attempted to have a neighborhood cookout that ended up with the fire department being called and half their lawn being burnt to a crisp. She swore if you dug around enough, you’d still find the melted remains of a few lawn flamingos out there.

In turn, Deacon began sharing a few things about his past, before the Deathclaws, things he’d only ever told Barbara, he admitted. He talked about how he’d hide out in University Point’s library before it collapsed, just devouring any book or holotape he could get his hands on. He mentioned how once he had dragged a bedroll and a pack full of Fancy Lads in there and went “missing” for two days, and how pissed off his mother was when they finally found him. That one had Whisper in a laughing fit. Now she knew where so much of his pre-war knowledge came from. Deacon made her swear to never tell a soul, especially Tinker Tom – he enjoyed the time traveler conspiracy about himself if he was being honest.

This evening was a quiet one. Maybe _The Hobbit_ wasn’t the most romantic of books, but it didn’t stop Whisper from snuggling in tighter, head on his shoulder, and sighing in contentment. He hadn’t really been paying attention to the book though, having probably read the same paragraph several times. He’d been too distracted by tracing the soft curve of her waist with his fingertips and the scent of her hair when he sunk down and nuzzled his face to it.

“Not feeling hobbits today?” Whisper tilted her head up and placed a soft kiss to his chin. He guessed sitting on the same page for ten minutes made that one obvious.

Deacon put the book down, not bothering to mark his place, and rested his hand on her cheek before capturing her lips with his own, gentle with just a hint of edge to it. Pulling back slightly, he murmured, “I can’t help it if you’re one big, beautiful distraction.” He was smiling as he moved to kiss her again, nipping at her bottom lip playfully.

Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe he was allowed to have this. The urge to run, to self-isolate, still thrummed through him every so often, but it was more tempered now, something he could push down and to the back of his mind. Deacon deepened the kiss, blocking out his thoughts and focusing on the warm press of Whisper’s body against his as she slowly moved to straddle his hips, on the curves of her waist as he brought his hands up to caress her sides under her shirt.

Whisper broke the kiss first. “You think too loud, Dee.” God, he loved that little nickname. She traced his cheek with her thumb before pressing her forehead to his. “You okay?”

  
  


“More than okay. Great even.” He pecked her nose, earning him a giggle. “Just can’t believe I’m here right now. This is still real, right? Like, not hallucinating?”

Whisper got a wicked grin on her face. Uh oh. “Can a hallucination do this?” She ground down on his hips, causing him to gasp at the pressure on his steadily hardening erection. His hands flew to her hips, urging her to repeat the motion while moving to nip and press sucking kisses down the column of her exposed throat.

“N-not sure. Might need a – ah – repeat demonstration.” He stuttered as Whisper slipped her hands under his shirt, pushing it up until he got the hint and sat up to pull it over his head. Immediately her hands were back on him, everywhere, mapping every groove of muscle, every scar. Her fingertips were cold, yet they seemed to write lines of fire across his chest and down his ribs.

  
  


Deacon returned the favor, unbuttoning her shirt with trembling hands and pushing it from her shoulders, marveling at the sight in front of him. On the road, they’d seen each other in various states of undress cleaning wounds, costume changes, or getting out of blood-soaked clothes, usually. This was so different. Not just stolen glances and worried looks, this time Deacon could watch, could feel, could touch. He slid his hands up to gently cup her bare breasts – her bra having given up the ghost months ago – and brushed her chill-peaked nipples with his thumbs. She responded with an airy sigh and arched into the touch. He sat up enough to take one of them into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the tip and grazing his teeth over it, earning him a breathy moan from Whisper. Deacon repeated the motion with the other nipple before she was pushing him back down to the bed and sliding off him to slip her pants down her thighs and to the floor.

  
  


He knew he was staring, probably with his mouth gaped open too. She was beautiful; her skin shone with the golden glow of the bedside lamp and dwindling evening sun, accentuating the smooth length of her legs and the soft thatch of hair between them. She responded to his gaze with a knowing smirk before she reached down to pull his own sleep pants and underwear down to join hers on the ground. He hissed when her hand came up to cup his cock as she went to kneel between his legs.

  
  


Deacon nearly saw stars when she lowered her head to lap gingerly on the head before taking it into her mouth and giving it a gentle suck. She’d only just begun and he could tell he wouldn’t last – it’d been far too long since he’d felt anything like this. His hand shot to her head, caressing her hair and careful to resist the urge to nudge her down further as she took more of him into his mouth, tongue laving against the underside of his cock. It was good, it was too good. He knew his groans were growing louder, the thin walls of their room surely not containing them. He took a chance to look down at her, only to be met with her own intense eyes watching him, and he nearly lost it right there and then.

He urged her up towards him, meeting her in an intense kiss and desperately willing himself to calm down. There was no way Deacon was going to let himself pop off that quickly, not with all the things he wanted to do with her. He was, of course, limited in what he could do with his bum leg, but he had an idea.

“Hey, scoot up here.” He panted, pulling at her hips until she got the hint and slowly, if a little unsure, moved to straddle his head. She looked down at him, somewhat nervous, but he could see the heat in her eyes. This way, he was able to reach his goal, and let his tongue dart out to run along the seam of her heat. Whisper’s gasp only egged him on further as he latched on to one of her thighs to holder her in place as he moved to suck gently at her clit, using his free hand to caress her folds. He could hear her panting heavily over him, soft whimpers accompanying them as he slipped a finger inside of her.

God, the noises she was making were only making him harder. He added another finger, not once ceasing the movement of his tongue along her folds, and crooked them aiming for that sweet spot. He’d hit it dead on, judging by the loud moan coming from above him. He sped both his hand and tongue up and started to feel her thighs quivering, trying desperately not to grind directly into his face, her breath quicken, and the sweet noises rise in volume. She was close, and Deacon was determined to push her over that edge.

It took not even a few more thrusts of his fingers until she practically screamed his name for the whole settlement to hear. Deacon felt her walls pulsating around him and her thighs were practically crushing the sides of his head. He didn’t care, though, and continued his ministrations until he felt her slump and relax around him, sated.

Whisper slunk back down across his lap once more, her heat brushing against his now painfully hard erection, and met him halfway for an urgent, sloppy kiss, the taste of her still on his tongue, but she didn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, it spurred her on even more as she rolled her hips, letting his cock slide against her folds. Sweet pressure, but just not enough.

“Whisp… C-can I?” He was out of breath and wanted nothing more than to feel her around him.

She smiled down at him, sated yet still with that same heat in her eyes, and reached between them, lining his cock up before sinking down on it slowly. They groaned in unison, she was so tight and slick around him. He had to hold her still for a moment, not wanting to lose it so soon. Whisper leaned down to him, kissing him sweetly once more before she began to roll her hips. God, she felt amazing – _she_ was amazing.

As she began to bounce in earnest, Deacon used his good leg to help thrust up and meet her in a steady rhythm. Her face was buried in his shoulder, muffling her moans as he took the chance to nip and suck alongside her throat and shoulder, leaving a trail of tiny red marks. His own breathing was getting more erratic. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would last, but he was determined to make it worth her while.

Deacon adjusted his angle best he could and pulled her hips down to meet him with rougher thrusts. Whisper cried out, a chant of “Don’t stop, Dee, don’t..” let him know he was hitting that sweet spot inside, and he had no intentions of stopping. He picked up his speed and for a second time, Whisper peaked as her climax crashed over her. The fluttering of her walls was just about to send him over the edge as well.

“God Whisp, I’m so… where…?” He could barely speak anymore, using all his focus to hold back just a few more seconds.

“Inside, Dee… It’s alright” she panted out, grinding her hips against him, and that was all it took. His eyes screwed shut as he threw his head back as his own orgasm washed over him, cock pulsing deep inside her as he rode it out.

Whisper dropped to sprawl across him, and he loosely wrapped his jelly feeling arms around her waist. His head was still swimming, but he could feel her feather-light kisses trailing along his cheek and jaw before meeting his mouth once more before slowly climbing off of him. She found a small towel near the bed she used to clean them both up, Deacon’s limbs being utterly useless at this point, and crawled back into bed, pressed against his side. Whisper drew the blankets that had all but fallen off the bed over them once again and pillowed her head back onto his chest, arm wrapped protectively around him. Sleep was steadily creeping up on the two of them, their energy spent.

Just as Whisper’s breathing was starting to even out, Deacon murmured. “Hey, Whisp?”

“Yeah, Dee?”

He took a deep breath. She deserved to hear it. It scared the shit out of him, but she deserved it. “I love you.”

Her head craned up to look at him, and if saying those three words would make her face light up as much as it did, he’d say it every day forever. He pressed a smiling kiss to her waiting mouth, one that repeated those words over and over, hoping she could feel it too. As she drew back, she was still beaming, and cradled the side of his face, thumb running along his cheek.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
